


think i'll take my chances

by trackfive



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety Attacks, Caretaking, Caring Harry Styles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are Saps, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pet Names, Sick Harry Styles, Sick Louis Tomlinson, Sickfic, because it's my favourite, oh boy so many pet names, prince hair era harry, they're just so gentle with each other, zayn is a good roommate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28352928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trackfive/pseuds/trackfive
Summary: “Ha-rry,” his voice cracked.“Yes, love.” Harry’s voice was even and his eyes were on the contents of the cabinet he’d opened.“Harry.”He stopped the search for whatever it was he needed and turned to face Louis expectantly.“Why’d you come over. Really don’t want you catchin’ this off me, H. I feel rubbish.”
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 149





	1. wednesday.

It started on Wednesday.

The two boys were studying in their favorite little café, enjoying the coffee and each other’s company. A lot of week-dates ended up something like this, sitting around and doing classwork, peeking up at each other and exchanging blushing smiles when they bumped knees. Neither of them minded that they weren’t on a _date_ date _ _,__ they were just happy to be together. They were well past reaching the comfortable stage in their relationship where they could be around each other without feeling the nervous urge to fill every silence, so studying together was wonderful. On days where they were loaded with work, they could be found in the back corner of the coffee shop, heads bent over books and legs tangled beneath the table. These little dates, though far from romantic, were worthwhile; it gave them endless opportunities to try new pastries, after all. Getting much of their work done throughout the week meant weekends were spent however they pleased with Harry always staying over at Louis’ flat.

Louis paused his reading to stare across the table at Harry. His eyebrows were knit together in concentration, and the sight made Louis’ heart skip a beat. He would surely never get over how gorgeous the boy was - long eyelashes fanned down as his eyes scanned the page, hair flopping over his forehead, tongue occasionally darting out to wet his perfect lips. He wasn’t sure how a work of art that beautiful wasn’t stocked away in a museum for safe-keeping.

Looking away, he grabbed his still-warm tea and took a sip. He made a little noise at the unexpected twinge in his throat.

“Alright?” Harry asked, glancing up from his papers.

“Hm, yeah. Think so. M’ throat just felt a bit off there.”

“Tea might be too hot still, that’s usually what it is for me,” Harry patted Louis’ hand on the table.

Louis made a quiet sound of agreement, though he knew that wasn’t it. The tea had cooled off to the point where it was nearly undrinkable, but he didn’t want to worry Harry over nothing. Louis was _not_ getting sick, that just _wasn’t_ happening. If ever he felt run-down he would ignore it, hoping to will away whatever might be messing with him. But he had nothing to ignore, he told himself, everything was peachy.

“I should probably take a break from all this,” Harry gestured around at his pile of schoolwork before starting to shuffle it all into his bag.

“Fucking _finally_ , been waiting on you to finish for ages,” Louis fake-complained, earning him a little laugh.

“Alright, alright. C’mon then.” He put his bag on the floor and held out an arm, inviting Louis to join him on the booth side of the table. Louis was there in an instant, leaning into Harry’s side like his life depended on it.

“Clingy today, are we?”

“Noooo. Jus’ missed you, Haz.”

“Lou, we’ve been sitting together for the past three hours. You’re absolutely ridiculous.” They both giggled.

Harry took a sip from his coffee and Louis stretched to grab his own drink.

“You sure you don’t want to try any?” Harry asked, offering his cup.

“We’ve been ooooover this, Harry. What kind of menace chooses _black coffee_ over a cup of Yorkshire? Should be locked up if you ask me.” Louis got a punch in the arm for that one, but he knew Harry loved his joking around. Sipping on the tea, he got another sharp pain in his throat, causing him to wince.

“Lou I told you to cool it off before yo-“

“It’s barely warm, see!” He removed the lid to show that it was no longer steaming.

“Hm, weird. You feelin’ ok? Like...do you think you’re catching cold?” Harry asked with caution, knowing Louis could get defensive over questions about his health.

“No,” he snapped, before softening a bit, “not sure what’s gotten into me. Must be something in the air.”

Harry just hummed in response, not wanting to say anything to irritate the older boy. A minute passed before he broke the silence.

“That happens a lot with me. Y’know, with the hayfever and all. Always something bothering me. Usually I just get some water and take a nap, fixes me right up.” He looked down at Louis who lifted his head off his shoulder so that blue met green.

“A nap sounds…pretty good now that I think about it. Gettin’ tired, didn’t sleep well I guess.”

He hadn’t been aware of the fatigue up until this point, but now he couldn’t avoid it. He kept himself upbeat though, again not wanting to worry Harry because he was _not_ ill.

“Why don’t you head on home then, love. Get yourself a nice warm shower and tuck in early. You never get a lie-in so it might be nice to catch up a bit, yeah?” Harry ran a hand through Louis’ hair, getting swatted away when he messed with the quiff.

“Yes _sir_ , Mr Styles.” A blush spread across Harry’s cheeks and nose, causing Louis to bark out a laugh that brought back the sharp feeling. He stood and kissed the top of Harry’s head before packing his things.

“Leavin’ with me?” Harry’s dorm was on the way to Louis’ apartment, so they often ended their dates walking hand-in-hand.

“I’ll be staying for a bit longer, love. Have somethin’ to finish up and you know I won’t get anything done back home with Zayn.” Harry truly loved his roommate, but their daily antics often meant both of them were a little less than productive.

“Zayn’s a good lad. Should have him and the boys ‘round again soon.” Louis leaned down to peck Harry’s lips before heading out, promising he’d be in bed before midnight.

—

Thursday hit him like a train.

He did go home to bed like he’d promised Harry, but it didn’t help nearly as much as he hoped. This bug took hold hard and fast and it was far too late to shake it.

Dragging himself out of bed and over to campus health was possibly the greatest feat Louis had ever accomplished. With a thermometer on his temple, the nurse threw a thousand questions his way. He did his best to answer them all through his fog, all the while shaking on the papered table, trying to hold back sneezes when she was close. One swab up the nose later and he was shipped off with a diagnosis of the flu and a few disposable masks. Nothing much he could do other than take it easy, stay hydrated, and keep to himself as best he could, or so he was told.

The only thing that kept him awake on the bus back was the constant sniffling. His nose ran like a faucet, and he was grateful that he could hide it behind the mask. What happened after getting off at his stop, Louis wasn’t so sure. He had no idea how he made it home, all he knew was he found himself struggling to get his key in the lock, sweat dripping down his brow.

Stumbling through the threshold, Louis slammed the door. Now that he was finally alone, he let himself give in to his symptoms. His cough was unrestrained, untameable, and unbearable. The irritation in his nose never let up - if he wasn’t sniffling he was sneezing. He was on his futon, unable to sleep but barely awake, until well after the sun went down. After psyching himself up, Louis lumbered to the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle and a packet of crisps on his way to bed. He was in no mood for either one, but he remembered what the nurse had told him about keeping his body going. Before he settled in for the night, he found his phone on the nightstand and checked it.

16 unread texts, 1 missed call, all from Harry.

_H <3:_

_9:13 morning love :) hope you had a nice sleep_   
_see you in a few hours .x_   
_2:09 you on your way baby?_   
_same table as yesterday_   
_2:25 earth to lewis !!_   
_3:19 ok i’m officially worried_   
_stopping by yours, be there in a mo .x_

**_~1 Missed Call: H <3~_ **

_3:30 open up lou! it’s cold out here_   
_this is why i need your spare key :0_   
_louis baby please_   
_is everything alright_   
_did i do something, love?_   
_baby_   
_5:01 hope all is well angel_   
_5:56 give me a ring when you can_   
_love you loads .xx_

Fuck, Harry. He’d been so caught up in his feverish daze that he hadn’t gone on his phone. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t bring it with him when he went out. He felt like shit, even more so than before. Tapping away as quick as he could, he replied.

_7:26 fuck so srry love_   
_bloody sick. flu_   
_came on fast_   
_didn’t mean to stand u up baby_   
_m an idiot haz christ m srry_

_H <3:_   
_fucking hell louis william_   
_been out of my head with worry all day_

_think zayn was ready to deck me if i didn’t shut up_   
_threatened to tie me down if i mentioned heading to your flat one more time_   
_are you alright?_   
_do you need anything?_

_Louis:_   
_slow down h_   
_gonna be alright_   
_think i was at the dr when u came_

_H <3:_   
_makes sense .x_   
_just been so worried about you_

_Louis:_   
_so srry baby really am_   
_been a long day haz_

_H <3:_   
_i bet :( anything i can do?_

_Louis:_   
_don’t think so love_   
_wanna hear abt ur day tho_

_H <3:_   
_that’s not important enough to keep you up over .x_   
_get some rest lou, sorry you’re so ill :(_

_Louis:_   
_k baby_   
_sorry i ruined the date_   
_make it up to u soon promise_   
_stay the wknd at ur place yeah_   
_u don’t wnt this_   
_love u xx_

Louis didn’t even wait for a response. The second the phone was out of his hands he was out cold.

—

The next morning was no better than before. Probably worse, Louis thought. He made sure to check his phone this time, grabbing his glasses and squinting through the throbbing headache.

_H <3:_   
_9:45 morning my sweet little sickie <3_   
_wanted to let you know i’ll be by after classes with some things_   
_round four i reckon_   
_let me in this time why don’t you .x_

He was confused. Why was Harry going to come over? Had he not told him to stay away? Scrolling back a few messages confirmed that he had. He guessed it was just Harry overreacting - once he heard back from Louis he’d certainly change his mind.

_Louis:_   
_12:24 hey baby xx_   
_no need to stop by m fine_   
_promise_

_H <3:_   
_i’ll be there around four_

_Louis:_   
_haz just stay at urs_   
_m rlly ill and gross_   
_won’t be any fun_

_H <3:_   
_not looking for fun darling_   
_see you at four_

_Louis:_   
_harry_   
_doing fine baby_   
_shld stay home_

Harry didn’t respond, much to Louis’ chagrin. He didn’t have nearly enough energy to deal with this right now. Maybe Harry would just leave some stuff on the doorstep and head back to the dorms. Hopefully that. He would never forgive himself if he got Harry sick like this. It was hell. It was torture. Seeing his angel of a boyfriend delirious and in pain knowing it was his fault? That would eat away at Louis’ soul.

He pulled himself off the bed, walking shakily to the living room with the duvet wrapped tight around his shoulders. He hadn’t opened the packet of crisps the night before, not that he expected himself to, but he would need a refill on his water. With the bottle filled and the shades drawn, he flopped on the futon and pulled up Netflix on his laptop, pressing play on whatever was up first on the home page. Any energy he had gained back from sleeping was gone. It took only a few minutes for him to fall into that in-between of sleeping and wakefulness that he was far too familiar with already.

In the moments when he coughed and sneezed himself awake, all he could think of was Harry. How nice those large hands would feel massaging his achy body, long arms wrapped around his shoulders, the brush of his perfect lips on Louis’ cheek, how he wanted nothing more than for his baby to come and comfort him. Tears stung his eyes as he spotted one of his boyfriend’s jumpers thrown over the back of the armchair. If he couldn’t have the real thing, that would be as good as he could get. He willed himself out of his nest and made the ten-foot trek over to it. Pulling the soft fabric over his head, he tried to pick up the scent of Harry that always lingered, but his nose was too stuffed. He inhaled deeply, but all that did was trigger an itch deep in his sinuses. All too ready for what was about to happen, Louis made his way back to the couch before the attack could begin.

—

The man jolted awake after…he wasn’t quite sure how long. Louis knew he should eat something, he really did, but the thought of putting anything into his unsettled stomach was incredibly unappetizing. This was, however, the most lucid he’d felt in hours and he didn’t want to miss his window. After a long internal argument, he pushed himself up and dropped his blanket to the floor. He was sweating now, though he was sure he’d gone to sleep absolutely frozen. Wanting to get it over with quickly, he made a (very slow) beeline toward the cabinets to grab a microwaveable chicken soup. Quick, low-effort, hot liquid - exactly what he needed. He turned on the kettle while he was up, throwing a tea bag into the mug on the counter that he desperately hoped was clean. Not that it would matter much anyway, he thought, it’s not like he could possibly get any more ill than he was in that moment. While the microwave hummed, Louis sat at the counter, slumped on a stool, and dropped his head into his arms. He heard the beeping but took another minute to rest. Making soup and tea was a Herculean task. He felt himself nodding off when there was a sudden knock on the door.

Louis ignored it, assuming it was just the mail carrier with a package. Knocks echoed through the kitchen again, and far more insistent this time. The sound cut through his head like a dagger. He laid his face back down and groaned pitifully, willing the assailant away from his door.

“Open up Lou,” came Harry’s voice from the other side. “C’mon, please.”

Yet again, he’d completely forgotten about Harry. Blinking a bit of the fogginess away, he remembered the man said he would stop by. Louis hoped he was just going to drop off a few things and head out. He wasn’t particularly jazzed at the thought of Harry seeing him ill in the first place. Slowly, he wobbled his way over to the door and fumbled with the lock before swinging it open.

“Shit, Lou.”

Harry pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up - he must have been calling Louis, assuming he didn't hear him from inside. Judging by the look on Harry’s face, he knew that he must look as bad as he felt.

“‘Lo Haz,” he croaked out, turning away to cough roughly into the sleeve of his - _Harry’s_ \- jumper.

“You look…”

“Dreadful? Like a corpse?” he supplied Harry.

“Proper ill, more like,” the crease between his eyebrows only deepened when he saw how heavily Louis was leaning on the door. “Budge over, love.”

Louis whined in protest and tried to keep his boyfriend out of the biohazard that was his one-bedroom, but he didn’t have the strength. With a warm hand on his lower back, Harry led him over to the kitchen stools. Despite the fever and fatigue clouding his thoughts, he was annoyed. This was exactly what he didn’t want…did want? He was torn between the relief of seeing his sunshine and frustration with the man for not listening.

“Tho-,“ Louis stopped to clear his throat. “Thought I told you to stay away.”

“Oh, you did.” Harry busied himself with the bags in his arms, setting them on the counter before wriggling out of his snowy getup.

“I’m…Haz, ’m ill.”

“Hm, is that right?” He noticed the gurgling kettle, flicked it off, and poured the steaming water into Louis’ mug, sliding it over to him.

“I have the flu.”

“Yes, darling, so you’ve said.” Harry gave him a little smirk, green flitting up briefly to meet blue.

“Flu’s contagious, H.” He coughed a bit as the words got stuck in his throat.

“That’s what I’ve heard.” Harry seemed fully unbothered by everything Louis told him; it was infuriating.

“So why the hell are you in my kitchen?”

The microwave chimed again, Louis never did get that soup out, so Harry turned to it without answering the question.

“Louis, this stuff is disgusting. Can’t believe you’ve got it in the house.” He set the lukewarm plastic container in the sink.

It was quiet for a bit, Harry pulling grocery items out of the bags one-by-one while Louis glowered at him, sniffling.

“Ha-rry,” his voice cracked.

“Yes, love.” Harry’s voice was even and his eyes were on the contents of the cabinet he’d opened.

“ _Harry._ ”

He stopped the search for whatever it was he needed and turned to face Louis expectantly.

“Why’d you come over. Really don’t want you catchin’ this off me, H. Feel rubbish.” He sneezed twice into the crook of his elbow, bending at the waist as if to prove his point.

“ _Bless_ you, baby. ‘M here because you’re feeling poorly and need some loving.” Harry walked over and rubbed a hand up and down Louis’ back, feeling the shivers that had started back up. He nudged the slumped, trembling boy off the stool. “Now you go and get yourself settled on the sofa, bundle up, go watch some telly for a bit while I fix you some proper soup. Had Zayn bring me by the market on the way over - know you well enough to guess you didn’t have much here.” He pressed the mug into Louis’ hands. “Go now, c’mon.”

He swelled a bit, preparing to argue, but the look in Harry’s eyes said _I won’t quit_. Louis resigned himself to weaving his way out of the kitchen, grumbling something like _‘gonna get so fucking sick you bloody idiot. be all your fault, too’_. Harry heard him and laughed.

“I think I’ll take my chances, sweetheart.”

He’ll feel guilty as all hell if Harry comes down with this shit, and he knows the boy will if he keeps hanging around. Harry wasn’t exactly known for having an immune system of steel. He was always catching a chill, picking up something or another every few weeks. Spending the evening with Louis as he sniffled, hacked, and sweated was essentially a death sentence.

Louis dropped the mug off in the front room before heading to the toilet. The face in the mirror gave him a bit of a shock. His blue eyes were over-bright and paired with bruise-like shadows, hair greasy and sticking out at odd angles, face pallid save for the blush of his cheeks and raw, red nose. Harry was right, he did look proper ill. _Can’t believe he’s seeing me like this,_ Louis thought. He sighed and splashed a bit of cool water on his face before making his way back to fix up his final resting place.

It seemed Harry had beat him to it. The lights were dimmed, the previously abandoned blanket was off the floor and draped over the back of the futon. Another fleece lay next to it, Harry must have brought it over from his. The pillows were fluffed and his laptop was turned on low. Torn between wanting to cry and staying angry with his boyfriend, he wrapped himself up, exhausted from his little excursion.

The sound of Harry’s whistling floating out from the kitchen calmed him. Sitting there, wrapped in blankets, he dozed in and out of consciousness, rousing when he felt a hand scratch at the top of his head, then being lulled back under. It wasn’t until Harry gave the back of his neck a little squeeze that he came to fully.

“Would you like to eat now, love? Or are you not feeling up to it.” A bowl of soup steamed in the boy’s hand and his dimples were on full display.

“Not particularly,” Louis said, rubbing a hand across his face, “but I don’ think it gets easier from here.”

Harry set down beside him, soup and spoon still in hand, as Louis untangled himself. He took the bowl from Harry and sighed gratefully at the heat of ceramic. With the first sip he groaned, and Harry bit his lip.

“No. ’S good on me throat.”

Harry’s grin returned and he reached down to rub Louis’ thigh through the blankets.

They sat like that while Louis slurped his dinner. The clatter of metal on ceramic, quiet sick snuffles, and the introduction of a showstopper challenge from computer speakers were the only sounds in the room. Harry kept trying to scoot closer, but Louis noticed each time and gave him what he hoped came off as a stern look. Only a third of the bowl was finished when Louis decided he’d had enough, but they both counted that a success. Harry took the soup out of his lap and moved it to the coffee table. Louis turned glassy eyes Harry’s way, cheeks pinker than before.

“Th’nks Hazza.”

Harry smiled sadly and ran his knuckles down the side of Louis’ face, sliding his hand back up to cup the other. Feeling the fever raging there, he gently urged the older boy to lay down, fevered skin warming Harry’s thighs through his jeans as Louis stretched his legs out. They stayed that way for a bit, Louis’ feet in Harry’s lap. The ill boy hid most of his face beneath the covers as he sniffled and coughed to avoid breathing his germs into the open air. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, wasn’t sure when he’d even fallen asleep, all he knew was that he woke himself up with a couple of urgent sneezes.

“Aw, bless you, angel.” Harry chuckled, leaning over with a tissue to wipe Louis’ nose, despite weak protests.

“Ok,” Harry made to stand, lifting Louis’ feet off his legs and placing them back down gently, “is your thermometer in the bathroom then?”

“Don’t uh-“ his eyes squinted as he waited for the itch in his nose to come to a head, but it only teased him. He sniffled before continuing. “Don’t ‘ave one. Left it with P-Payno las’ m-month,” he barely got out before taking a sharp inhale, burying his face in the blanket when a raspy sneeze tore from him.

“Bless, love. Have any cough suppressant? Cold and flu tablets?”

“Told me they can’t do shit ‘bout it. Jus’ have to wait ‘round,” he sniffed thickly, cheeks flushing even darker with embarrassment as he tried to stem the flow from his nose.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t things to like…make it easier. You know that, love.”

Harry grabbed the cold soup and headed back to the kitchen. When Louis heard the distant jingling of keys he pushed up on his elbows.

“Headin’ home?” He croaked as loud as he could, coughing with the strain on his already thin voice.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, Tomlinson. Just gonna pop out to the chemist down the road, grab a few things.”

It was as though Harry could sense his next move because the man was suddenly behind him, a hand firm on his chest to keep him from standing.

“Lou, please. S’no problem, love. Just…let yourself be taken care of for once. Takin' your car, that alright?” Harry didn’t wait for an answer, just planted a kiss into sweaty hair and strode over to the door.

“Be back soon!” Harry called before the door closed.

Growing up with younger siblings gave Louis ample experience with caretaking. Kids have abysmally low standards for hygiene, which led to many sleepless nights for Louis as he stayed by a sister’s bedside, swapping out a cool cloth, fixing kicked-away covers, and stroking hair through feverish nightmares. He couldn't help but worry for his people, and his university mates were certainly not immune to his fussing. Whenever any of the lads were ill, they’d come to him for advice, comfort, whatever they might need. And he was always happy to help. Loud, brash, teasing Tommo softened around the edges. His demeanor changed, became almost motherly with feather-light touches and soothing words. When the situation was reversed, however, Louis was more than a bit difficult. He didn’t fall ill often, but oh boy when he did. Prickly and on edge, pulling away from everyone, denying it until the end - Louis refused to let his guard down. _He’s_ the helper. _He’s_ the caretaker. Never the other way around.

But factor in Harry - sweet, loving, selfless Harry - with his calming voice and endless love in his eyes. Louis couldn’t help but feel safe with him. He wanted so badly to let him in, break down the walls and be truly vulnerable, but he wanted even more to shield him from any pain. Seeing his Harry poorly always broke Louis’ heart, no matter how many times he’s gone through it. There wasn’t anyone else who pulled at his heartstrings like the curly-headed boy. The soft spot Louis had for him was growing bigger and bigger, slowly taking over the entirety of his heart. Thinking about his love was relaxing, and he drifted off to visions of green eyes and dimples.

Louis woke to the sound of boots being kicked off, keys hung up on the wall. His eyelids were made of lead, he couldn’t get them to move. Had a lion set up camp on his chest? Everything felt far too hot and heavy. He was sweating buckets, but frozen solid inside.

Harry knelt down beside him still clad in outdoor gear, lightly rubbing at his arm.

“You up, love?”

Louis gave him a whine.

“Feelin’ any better?”

No response.

“Feelin’ worse?”

"H..." he whimpered faintly.

“Oh, darling,” Harry cooed.

Louis’ eyes fluttered open with the touch on his cheeks, the hand sliding up to his forehead.

“You’re really cookin’ in there, Lou, hm? Lucky I brought some gifts for you. Gonna have to sit you up though, here we are.”

Louis barely registered Harry’s hand under his armpits until he was sat upright. He watched as Harry shrugged off his jacket and scarf, opened packets, and sorted through the mass of sick-people supplies he bought.

“Open that pretty mouth for me, baby.”

Normally those words would drive Louis crazy, have him on his knees in an instant, but all he did was part his lips so Harry could slip cold metal through them and under his tongue. His cheeks were flushed not with desire, but with illness. Harry knew how awful his boy must be feeling when there was no sexual retort, no cheeky glint in his eyes. Louis did his best to not cough the thermometer out of his mouth, but holding them in became painful. He twisted away from Harry as a few slipped out. It was removed after what felt like an eternity, finally allowing Louis to bring blanket-clad hands up to his mouth to cough properly. Harry checked the reading, frowned deeply, and busied himself with the medicines on the table.

“I know you’re feelin’ real bad, love, I’m so sorry, but you think you can get these down for me?” He showed him two large blue tablets.

“Those ‘re for night. S’not time.” Louis slurred. There was almost nothing behind his eyes - Harry’s heart ached.

“Darling, it’s half-past eight.”

Louis just blinked at him, silent for a beat, then held out a hand. Harry dropped the medicine into his waiting palm and handed him a glass of water. Louis got them down without a fuss and immediately flopped back as if all his energy had been exhausted.

“I think it’s time for bed, yeah?” He offered a hand, but when Louis made no move to take it the younger boy hauled him into his arms, blanket dragging along the floor behind them.

Harry left him to brush his teeth and use the bathroom with some privacy, but Louis knew he was waiting just on the other side of the door and worrying like it was his job. Once he was burrowed in his bed, wracked with chills despite all of the blankets, he looked up at Harry through his stupor.

“Th’nks. Takin’ care ‘f me.”

Harry bent down to press a kiss to the tip of his swollen, running nose, chuckling.

“Anything for you, love. Listen, I’m going to tidy up out there a bit, but I’ll be right back to warm you up.”

Louis peered up at him in confusion.

“Thought…goin’ back. Dorm.”

“Oh baby, I couldn’t leave you here all alone and poorly now, could I?”

“Germy,” Louis whispered.

“Yeah, a bit,” he laughed quietly, “but someone’s gotta look after your germy self, no?”

Without warning, Louis let out a small sob. Harry panicked, knelt down by the bedside, and tried to soothe him.

“Gon’ catch it,” he stopped himself with a congested sneeze, barely managing to bring a hand up to cover as he hiccuped through tears. “G’home.”

All Harry could do was murmur a blessing and comb a hand through damp hair, bringing it to rest at the nape of his neck.

“Said it before, I’ll take my chances, angel.”

Louis whimpered, barely audible; Harry sighed and gave him the gentlest of smiles.

“Remember when I had that stomach bug? And you came ‘round for a visit? Held my hair back for nearly a week, you and Z did. All turned out fine then, hm?” Louis, rubbing his teary, tired eyes with the heel of his hand, nodded at Harry who was leaning in closer.

“For you, Louis William, I’d do anything.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Louis’ slightly parted lips before the older man could dodge him and turned to leave.

If Louis woke when Harry joined him in bed, he didn’t show it. Harry snuggled in, chest pressed up against Louis’ back, one arm sliding carefully over his trembling torso to pull him closer. The discomfort brought on by the sticky fever-heat was of no importance to Harry - he would stay forever to help the smaller man shake those shivers if he had to. When he said _anything_ , he meant it. That included cradling a horrifically ill Louis despite the fact that Harry forgot to get a flu jab. It didn’t matter to him one bit, so long as he could get the love of his life back on his feet.


	2. saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's selflessness is a blessing and a curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i've been spending my day cleaning up cat puke and packing! always some bright spots though :) hope your weekends were lovely!

Throughout the night, Harry got up with Louis. During times when he was more aware, Louis would apologize profusely, guilty tears filling his eyes. Harry assured him that _there’s nothing to be sorry for, Lou_ each time with never-ending patience _._ At one point, he dragged the sorry boy over to the bathroom, sat with him on the edge of the tub, and turned the shower on high as it could go, hoping the steam would clear him up a bit. Though his own eyes were burning with exhaustion, he was there every time, staying up for as long as Louis needed him - stroking his hair, checking his temperature, and whispering calming nonsense.

It was around ten that Harry decided to wake up for good. He slowly extracted his arm from beneath Louis’ back. He knew that Louis probably wouldn’t be up for eating much, but he wanted to get some food into him regardless. After hunting through the kitchen cabinets, he found porridge and some bread - both decent offerings for a sensitive stomach.

Harry decided to take a moment to eat before waking his boyfriend. It had been a rough few hours - not that he minded, though. He would stay up all night for Louis if he had to, but a few minutes to himself might be nice before he took up caretaking again. Assuming Louis wouldn’t mind, he scrambled up the last of the eggs in the fridge and plopped onto a stool. He was about halfway through the plate when he heard rustling from behind him. His back cracked as he whipped his head around, fork halfway to his mouth.

“Morning, H.” The duvet was trailing behind Louis like a train.

“Shit, Louis, sorry. I meant to wake you but I was hungry an-“

“Relax. ’S no problem,” Louis assured him.

“Can I get you something to eat? A cup of water at least?” He moved to stand, fork clattering onto the counter.

“Harry, darling, finish your meal,” Louis put a weak hand on Harry’s shoulder and guided him back down.

“L-“

“Styles, for the love of god _please_ stop rambling. Gonna make me head worse,” he rasped, turning away to clear the tickle from his throat. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it as he was hugged from behind. He felt Louis’ face resting on his shoulder; Harry craned his neck with a dimpled smile and slid an arm around his small waist.

“Can feel a fever still.” The spot where Louis’ forehead made contact with Harry’s skin was far too warm. He reached a hand up and felt around the fevered cheekbone, rubbing his thumb there for a few seconds.

Louis just hummed and moved to slump on a stool. It only took a minute or two for Harry to scarf down the last of his eggs before turning back to him.

“Right then, what can I make for you, love?”

“Not hungry,” Louis complained, head resting on his arms.

“Well you’ve got to have something. How about a slice of toast?” Harry caught the stubborn expression on Louis’ face and gave him his best pleading look. “For me, Lou?”

Harry knew it would break him - he agreed to toast.

The day was spent lazily on the couch. Louis slept most of the time with his head usually resting in his boyfriend’s warm lap, much to Harry’s surprise considering his attitude the day before. He hadn’t expected such touchy-feely behavior from Louis, and he was a bit embarrassed that he hadn’t showered - sleeping with a human campfire gets you a little sweaty - but any time he’d try to get up his boyfriend would protest. _It’s not like he can smell anything anyway_ , Harry justified to himself.

At times, Louis was drowning in blankets, but they would be kicked away shortly after. Harry’s anxious hovering relaxed as the day went on. Once he picked up on the rhythm of how Louis’ body reacted to the illness, he stopped whipping out the thermometer at his boyfriend’s every move. He still checked it every other hour though, and forced water on him whenever he got the chance. The cough and congestion seemed to have intensified, but his fever was slowly and steadily going down which helped to untwist the knots in Harry’s nervous stomach.

Harry took his role as a human pillow very seriously, only moving to head to the toilet or get something to eat if Louis was already awake. The ungodly amount of soup he’d made was more than enough to get Louis through the day, and he found some pasta to whip up for himself. He read his book, quietly watched some shows, and stared at his sleeping boyfriend’s perfect face while combing through smooth, straight hair. He wouldn’t even let Louis get up on his own, carrying him bridal-style wherever he needed to go so he wouldn’t waste his energy.

Despite having done very little, falling asleep that night was easy for them both - Louis was knackered, and the constant, attentive caretaking seemed to have worn Harry out quite a bit.

—

Sunday went much in the same way…at first. As the day went on, Louis became more lucid; Harry knew this because the space between them on the sofa, once nonexistent, increased a little each time Louis woke up.

“You know you can come cuddle again, right? Like…you don’t have to be shy about it.”

“I can’t, H. Been irresponsible, got too close t’you yesterday.”

“You’ve been _ill_. Big difference there.”

“No, Harry, you don’t understand. I-I don’t…if we’re too close you’ll get ill and I w-won’t know what to do a-“

“Don’t be silly. I won’t be angry if I catch your flu, honest. We’ve been attached at the hip for well over a day now, so if I were to get it, it would’ve already happened anyway.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Louis’ breaths started coming in quicker and his eyes shut tight. His hands balled up, clutching the blanket, and his whole body began to tremble like it did in the early stages of his fever. Harry felt like an idiot - _as if Louis wasn’t already feeling bad enough_ _just throw some emotional suffering in the mix, what the hell was I thinking_. He inched hesitantly toward him and tapped a pink-nailed finger on a shaking fist.

“Love, can I touch you?” Louis shook his head violently which seemed to exacerbate his headache, causing the held back sobs to come to the surface. All Harry could do was speak softly to him, assuring him that he was still there, that he’d be okay. After a long few minutes, Louis seemed to change his mind. A trembling hand patted the sofa next to him once in invitation before returning to its position over his face. Harry jumped on the opportunity, letting go of the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and moving over.

“This alright?” Harry murmured as he smoothed a hand over Louis’ upper back, who sighed and leaned up into the touch. A few minutes passed in near-silence.

“Could you come out from there for me, baby? Show me those beautiful eyes.”

Louis parted his fingers a bit, revealing them - blue as ever, but watery and bloodshot - before closing his hands back up.

Harry reached over to the table to grab a few tissues before slowly coaxing Louis out from hiding. He wiped the mess from his boyfriend’s splotchy face and tossed the tissues to the side. Normally he knows exactly how to bring him back down, but this ill version of Louis was more resistant than usual.

Harry took Louis’ face into his hands and pressed their foreheads together, nose to nose. He could feel hot breath ghosting across his own lips as he closed his eyes. Sliding one hand to the back of Louis’ neck to ground him, he spoke.

“I would do anything for you, Lou. Don’t worry your little head over me, yeah? ’S alright.”

Louis’ eyes opened, blue and green so close now, and Harry could see the fear was fading away.

“ _Can I?_ ” Harry breathed the words, almost inaudible.

Louis gave the smallest nod. Harry tilted his head down and pressed a sweet kiss to Louis’ chapped lips. He began to pull away, but was pleasantly surprised when Louis kissed him again, lips parting a bit more. Time stopped as they lingered against each other, more tender than sensual. His mouth tasted of honey and lemon, the usual hint of tobacco nowhere to be found. Louis’ nose left a bit of moisture on his upper lip, but Harry wasn’t about to let him go over it. The last real kiss they shared felt like ages ago, and electricity sparked between them, despite the gentleness of their movements.

It was only when Louis’ nose began to twitch against Harry’s that he tried to pull away. Harry stole one last kiss though, leaving Louis with no time to turn. He had no choice but to bend forward, forehead against Harry’s collarbone as he launched into a desperate fit of sneezes aimed down between them, clamping both hands over his mouth and nose. Harry just laughed and scratched at his shuddering shoulders, subtly wiping the traces of Louis off of his face before the boy resurfaced, knowing full well he’d be mortified if he found out.

“Sorry, angel.”

“Guess that’s sorted, then. Pass the tissues, would you?” Louis said nasally, his cheeks glowing red as he cleaned himself up.

—

By nine at night, the two boys were snuggled up on the couch. Louis tried to snack on something that Harry all but begged him to eat while they watched Netflix. Louis felt a rumble beneath his ear, so he angled his head up from its spot on Harry’s belly, thinking the man had said something. Instead, he found Harry fast asleep, snoring lightly. Louis’ blood ran cold - he knew it. A little shake of Harry’s right arm brought him back.

“Somethin’ wrong, Lou?”

“Other than the lurgy, no. Should be asking you the same, though,” he narrowed his eyes at Harry whose face was the picture of innocence.

“All’s fine here. Just knackered - you’re quite the handful, you know.” He poked the tip of Louis’ nose and gave him a winning smile. Guilt and panic reared their heads again and it must have shown, because Harry leaned down to drop a quick kiss on his forehead. “Stop it with that face, love. ‘M okay, nothing to freak about, promise.”

Louis wanted so badly to believe him, but he could see _it_ setting in. The boy was clearly exhausted, his eyebrows furrowed the tiniest bit every time he swallowed, and he didn't miss Harry's furtive sniff after he spoke. He knew exactly how Harry would be feeling in a matter of hours, so he had to find a way to get him into bed early.

“Actually, Haz, I think ‘m feeling a bit feverish again. Might head to bed. I know it’s early so you don’t have t-“

“Oh, baby, of course I’m coming. Here, let’s get you to the bedroom and then I’ll grab some waters.”

“Thanks, H.” Louis knew his boyfriend far too well. He leaned up, lips puckered, asking for a kiss. Harry’s eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated love as he ducked down to meet him halfway. When he heard Louis start sniffling, he smiled into the kiss before pulling back, having learned his lesson from before.

“C’mon then.” He laced his right hand through Louis’ left.

Harry walked him over, which was much appreciated since Louis couldn’t shake the dizziness that had been plaguing him all day. The second his curls were out of view, Louis got to work. He moved an extra box of tissues and one of the unopened water bottles from his nightstand to Harry’s, just in case he were to wake up in need of them. He grabbed some medicine, taking what he needed and plopping the rest of it next to the tissues.

They took their time getting ready for bed, exchanging looks all the while. They seemed to have broken the seal with those few kisses - they couldn’t stop. Sweet pecks grew into something more steamy, and it was only Louis’ coughs that reminded them to keep moving along. As they climbed into bed, Louis decided they had a few minutes to spare before they turned in with a cheeky glint in his eyes.

“My cough suppressant won’t kick in for a half hour…however will I sleep if I’m hacking up a lung?” Louis forced a few coughs and raised an eyebrow.

“Poor love. Guess I could help you pass the time, hm?” Smirking, he sat back on his heels next to Louis.

“Only if you don’t mind all this _,_ ” Louis gestured toward his face. “Might not have much breath in me to snog for long. Might snot on you the whole time.”

“How tragic. Wouldn’t want to suffocate you, now would I? Guess I’ll have to…” he purred, eyes drifting down to Louis’ boxers, “give you something _much_ better. If you’d like.”

“ _Fuck_.”

Those _spare minutes_ were very well spent.

—

Sweat.

Harry was soaking through the sheets when Louis woke. His own shirt was starting to get damp through Harry’s wherever the fabrics were touching. _Shit_ , Louis’ brain was foggy, _how the hell’d he get like this already_? His mother always said illnesses get worse in the night - he could testify to that with the way his head was pounding behind his eyes - but it wasn’t even four hours in and Harry was down bad. Even though he still felt poorly, Louis knew he had to take care of his boy. He lightly shook Harry who came to with a choked breath.

“Wha’d’ya need, Lou? You…is it…you okay?” He was panting, disoriented.

“Yeah. Not sure you are, though.”

“N-No ‘m alright. Should check your temperature again.” He tried and failed to push up onto his elbows.

“H, darling, I think I should be taking yours. Seems like you got a nasty fever burning,” Louis kept his gravelly voice even.

“Oh,” Harry said dumbly.

Louis lifted slowly off the bed. His muscles were less achy than before, but the damn dizziness just wouldn’t quit. Being a few days into this thing meant he was on the mend though, and he knew Harry needed him. Throwing on his glasses, Louis faltered over, one hand gliding along the bed to make sure he didn’t fall. He knelt, thermometer in hand, and planted a kiss on the bridge of Harry's nose.

“H, open up for me quick? Gotta slip this under your tongue.”

Harry complied, not opening his eyes until he started to mumble around the stick.

“No, no, Haz. Almost done, tell me in a moment.” Louis removed it after it beeped, checking the numbers and sucking in a breath through his teeth. Harry got _really_ bad, _really_ fast.

“Was askin’ ‘f you feel better.”

“You are unbelievable. You’re boiling your brains, and that’s all you can think about?”

“Bu-…are you?”

“Darling, I’m fine.” Even in his condition, Harry’s eyes were determined. “Look, I’m fine enough to play nurse for you, yeah?”

Louis turned to the nightstand again and squinted to read the label on the medicine. He was in the middle of preparing a dose of the liquid for Harry when the boy spoke.

“Lou?”

“Hm?”

“Did…’m I pissed? Feel dizzy.”

“No, love. Just caught the flu, wonder where you picked that up.” He joked, but Harry didn’t seem to register the humor, staring past him with glazed-over eyes.

“You ‘ave…flu?”

“Yes, pet, I do. Looks like you’re joining the club.” Harry gave a few small coughs in response. “D’you think you can sit up to drink?”

Harry grunted but made no move to raise himself.

“Gotta lift up, hm?” Louis pushed Harry into a slumped sit, the boy leaning heavily on him. Once the liquid was downed and Harry’s weak coughs calmed, Louis slowly laid him down, not strong enough to hold him up like that for much longer.

“Right then, lovely. Gonna grab a little cloth to clean you up. Be right back.” Louis head reeled as he stood. Harry noticed his distress and whined, stretching a hand out, which Louis reached to hold.

“‘M alright, love,” he mumbled, giving the boy’s clammy hand a little squeeze.

Shuffling into the bathroom to wet a flannel was easy enough, but using it was tougher. Harry’s arms were dead weight, so pulling his sweaty top off was a nightmare. Even with Louis’ warning, Harry yelped when the cloth was run down his chest. A small sob came out when it was left on the back of his neck. Louis just played with his hair and shushed him softly. He pulled Harry into his chest, sinuses burning, as tears wet his collarbone.

After a few minutes he gave in, throwing the flannel on the floor and angling slightly away to let out his sneezes uncovered. _What’s the point in being polite about it_ , he thought to himself, _doesn’t matter now._ He got a groggy blessing from Harry before he turned back, scrubbing at his nose with his wrist. Louis lowered himself and Harry back onto the pillows where they fell asleep, wrapped around each other.


	3. sunday.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry worries louis and zayn, louis worries harry, harry worries louis...and then they both worry. taking care of each other doesn't have to be a one-way street
> 
> (h/c with extra hurt...and extra comfort...and extra fluff)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank very much to everyone - i'm straight up shocked that anyone other than me would want to read this and oh boy do i appreciate every one of you!!!! y'all are truly too kind i have no idea what to say <3 sending love and good vibes

It was still well before dawn when Louis’ anxiety peaked.

Harry couldn’t get more than forty minutes of sleep at a time before waking himself up, sometimes from his raging fever, others from choking on his breath. His lungs protested with every cough, but he’d soldiered through. Louis could hear suffocating tightness in the boy’s chest even when he sneezed, but he hadn’t felt they were in big trouble yet. Before letting him drift off again, he would fight to get a thermometer under a very grumpy Harry’s tongue. It wasn’t hard considering how drowsy he was, but it wasted minutes that should have been spent resting, and had Harry calling him quite colorful names on more than one occasion.

This time, however, the wheezing was worse. Harry could still breathe well enough to sleep - he snored with his head in Louis’ lap - but it was starting to get scary. It was no longer worth trying to get any rest himself, Louis figured. Between the brutal headache, shredded throat, and his never-ending worries, the pursuit of sleep was useless. He’d bet anything that Harry didn’t bring his inhaler and they were inching closer and closer to the danger zone. Leaving him unattended was a risk Louis was not willing to take.

Truth be told, Harry never brought much of anything when he stayed the night. He relied on the random articles of clothing he left laying around, a toothbrush he kept in some drawer, and Louis’ bath products to get by, but there was no spare inhaler. If he didn’t get the medication soon, Louis was worried he might throw himself full-speed into an asthma attack. Despite being on the mend, he sure as hell wouldn’t feel safe driving them both to hospital. Yes, he was feeling far better than the previous day, but almost anything could be considered ‘far better’ than the sweaty, emotional disaster that he was. Driving with both legs removed would be safer than putting _that_ Louis behind the wheel.

It was only after a lot of deliberation that he grabbed the closest phone he could reach, which ended up being Harry’s. It didn’t really matter since they both had the number he needed.

“Styles I swear to f-“

“Not Styles.”

“Louis?” Zayn’s sleep-addled morning voice came through. “’S Haz’s phone. And _three in the bloody morning_.”

“I know, sorry.”

“Thought you’re dying,” he grumbled, sounding as though he wished that were the truth.

“Am, mate,” Louis’ mediocre attempt at sass didn’t diffuse the tension. “Really sorry to call so early.”

“Hm.”

“Look, I, uh…I need a favor. ‘F you can.”

“Hm.” Zayn couldn’t sound less thrilled if he tried.

“H is ill.”

“Wha’, like…he ‘lright?” he woke up a bit at the news, concern pushing past annoyance.

“Looks worse off than I did. Gettin’ real worried about his lungs. They’re like, whistling.”

“Oh Harry.” The line was silent for a beat.

“Look - could you swing by with his inhaler, maybe some of his things? Not about to ship him back to yours, but...he’d relax easier with ‘em, y’know. Hate to ask but I can’t exactly do it meself and he looks just,” he let out a shaky sigh as tears begged to fall, “please, Zayn. I’m losing me head here.”

“‘Course I will, you idiot,” Zayn assured, voice kind despite the insult.

“D’you think you, uh…I know it’s early bu-“

“Don’t have to convince me, mate. ’M on it.”

“Thanks, Z.”

“Need anything?” Zayn yawned and, if the distinct squeak of a dormitory mattress was any indication, rolled out of bed.

“He might wan-“

“No, dickhead, for you.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Louis smiled for the first time in hours. “But ’m fine.”

“Yeah, you really sound it. I’ll try to be there ‘round…half three?” The clattering and rustling in the background was slowly becoming too much for Louis’ head to handle.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Mhm, you’re welcome. Be there soon.”

Louis knew he’d be better off waiting in the front room, but he didn’t trust himself not to fall asleep out there and leave Harry alone. He kept scratchy coughs behind closed lips and pinched back the stinging in his sinuses to keep his body as still as possible for his dozing boyfriend.

He couldn’t tell if it felt like five minutes or five hours before Zayn had _just parked, coming up_. Louis shot back a _thnks love_ , telling him to _leave it on doorstep_. He got a _don’t be stupid_ in return. Too drained to fight, he moved cautiously from Harry’s side. On the walk over, he grabbed two fresh surgical masks from the small pile he received the previous week. He cracked the door and saw Zayn on the staircase. Louis tossed the zip seal bag as far as he could.

“Put tha’ on before you get too close. Safety and all.”

Zayn, with two bags in tow, pulled it open and slung the straps around his ears.

“G’morning, _Patient Zero_. Lookin’ fantastic, there.”

“Thanks, babe, you’re ravishing as usual.” Rolling his eyes, Zayn crossed the threshold and clapped a hand on Louis’ shoulder.

“How’s he doin’?”

“Honestly? Awful. Like, proper ill.”

Zayn hissed out a long breath and studied what he could see of Louis’ face above the mask.

“And you?”

“Doin’ fine,” though his clogged-up voice said otherwise. Shying away from the knowing look he got, he offered a better answer.

“I’ll live, alright? He needs me, so.”

Louis wasn’t a master of hiding his emotions, so it was hard to miss the way his averted eyes blinked a little quicker and his mask puffed out a bit with a steadying breath. The bags clunked down on the kitchen counter so Zayn could pull him in for a side hug. A few seconds passed before Louis collected himself and managed a smile.

“Thanks for all this, really.”

Zayn shrugged.

“Anything for H. _And_ you, I suppose.” Zayn feigned injury when he got a feeble punch on the arm. Nodding to the duffle,“Both puffers, his quilt, favorite jumper, the basics.” He stuck the contents of the plastic bag into random cabinets, just as Harry had done. “Got some rubbish for you, too. Soup, ice cream, juice, cleared out the entire cold and flu aisle, I think. It’s for _you_ ,” they locked eyes, and Zayn’s intensity had Louis afraid to break the contact, “ _not_ just Harry, got it? There’s enough for _both_ of you so…take your share.”

He could see how Zayn and Harry got on so well. They were far too similar, truly a roommate match made in heaven. Though Harry’s constant positivity and kindness nearly drove him mad at first, the younger boy so easily wormed his way into Zayn’s heart. Though he still found Harry’s chirpy early-morning conversation a bit irritating if he hadn’t yet downed a coffee, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t missed on weekends. They’d clearly picked up each other’s mannerisms as well, because the expression on Zayn’s face gave Louis flashbacks to Friday. He knew better than to argue with Harry, so he certainly wasn’t about to start with Zayn.

“Alright, alright, don’t have me head over it! But really, thank you so much. I owe you one. A thousand pints on me…once I’m no longer a danger to society.”

“Happy to help. Rather keep my mates alive than find brand new ones, right? Too much work.” He was obviously smirking under the mask. “Might head back though. Pretty sure this place is _legally_ a biohazard.”

“Innit.”

“Give me a ring if you need anything else. Serious, Louis. Like…keep me updated on ‘im, yeah?” He was cool as ever on the outside, but his words betrayed a hint of urgency. Zayn cared about all of his friends, but everyone knew he had the biggest soft spot for his roommate - his _best_ friend.

“Will do. Missed you, Z. Shit timing, but good to see you.”

“You too. Get better, the both of you.”

“Thanks, love.”

He waved Zayn off and closed the door, fully spent. He hiked Harry’s bulky bag on his shoulder and collected the many bottles gifted to them before he shuffled down the hall, thoughts consumed by Harry.

Hearing what sounded like a horribly painful sneeze from up ahead gave Louis a burst of energy and sent him speeding around the corner. Harry was sat on the edge of the bed with streams of tears flowing down his face faster than Louis’ heart was pounding.

“Oh no, love,” he raced over and squatted so quickly that dots danced in his vision, “what’s happened?”

“Weren’t” Harry coughed roughly toward his lap, “weren’t here.”

Louis’ stomach twisted hard - Harry _never_ let coughs or sneezes go uncovered. He always wanted to be polite no matter how badly he felt, so there was an attempt every time, whether successful or not. Louis had never seen him break the habit even through countless illnesses, so he must have been at his all-time worst.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, H. Zayn brought stuff to make you more cosy. Had to step out quick to meet him. Didn’t know you’ve been up, ‘m sorry.”

More hot tears stained his flushed cheeks. Gasping breaths intermingled with chesty coughs. It was hard to believe they were in this same position hardly a day ago, albeit roles reversed. Louis wanted to echo the gentleness that was given to him, so he pushed up to stand next to Harry.

“Take a breath, love. Work with me here, c’mon.” The palm of his hand ran up Harry’s spine, “In.” Fingertips glided down as he encouraged an “out.” He kept up the touch, slowing his movements down like Harry had done until he tapered off to shallow, wheezy hiccups.

“Good job, Hazzy. Good boy. I’m so sorry, darling. Let’s say we see about that puffer, hm? Your chest’s been needin’ some help for a while now, poor thing.” He tilted Harry’s head when he didn’t get a response, but the boy didn’t seem to have registered anything he said.

“Hi baby. You still with me?” Sickly-warm fingers drew delicate circles on scorching-hot temples, successfully bringing a bit of life back into Harry’s unsettlingly vacant stare. ”Ready for your inhaler?” Jerking his head back, Harry took a strangled inhale. Louis didn’t know what about it had startled him, all he could do was grab for the bag. After rummaging around frantically with one hand and suppressing a powerful sneeze into the other, he held the pump up for Harry to see.

“No no, ’s okay! Nothing scary, love. Just your puffer. You ‘member this guy, yeah?” Fearful Harry faded back to emotionless again; he offered an open palm. Louis, one knee resting on the rug, didn’t hand it over. He just tucked damp hair behind Harry’s ear to get a better look at his blank face.

“Would you like some help, lovely?” Harry nodded, eyes falling closed. “Yeah? Okay darling, part your lips.” He wrapped his mouth around it. “In three, two, one,” he pressed the dispenser down and Harry pulled it into his lungs.

They repeated the sequence once more, this time with Harry in control as Louis’ nose suffered a dizzying fit that came as a consequence of stifling earlier. When he resurfaced, he could already hear the inhaler working its magic. Tension had released from Harry’s shoulders and his deeper breaths, though still unsteady, lost their constricted hiss.

“Good job, H. Proud of you.” Soft kisses were planted all across Harry’s brow and cheeks, and it earned Louis the littlest, sleepiest smile. “Think it’s time to lay back down. Sounds like you’re feeling proper poorly, yeah?”

“Hot.” Harry breathed, nearly inaudible, while he hauled himself onto the bed. Guilt flooded Louis’ entire body and his already congested voice came out thick with emotion.

“I’m sorry, Harry.God, I’m so sorry.”

Harry curled around himself and clung to the blankets, already back to shivering. Louis’ legs were giving out, but he needed to get things settled first. For the most part he didn’t speak, though he wasn’t sure that Harry fully listened when he did. That was probably for the best - at that point, what little was left of Louis’ voice wavered.

“What’d Z pack up…” he dug around in the long-forgotten bag. “Oh, look what we have here!” Harry opened an eye to see a small plush turtle.

“‘cel” he mumbled. Harry loved his little Marcel. He had no shame about bringing a stuffie along to university, and Louis found it quite endearing. His tattooed arm appeared from under the covers, calling for both his turtle and his boy with a grabby hand. Louis felt about ten seconds from collapsing and could never deny grabby hands.

He settled in as the big spoon around Harry who clutched Marcel. Harry’s jumper and an extra quilt were folded by the pillow, guessing his boy would get cold later but would certainly be upset if he left to grab them.

“Doin’ alright, lovely?” Lips brushed Harry’s ear with the whisper - his shattered throat couldn’t manage anything louder.

“Mbghmm.”

“Sounds about right. ‘M sorry, Hazza. Really am. It’s all me fault, ’m so sorry.” Between muted apologies, Louis planted little kisses all around Harry’s neck, the exposed side of his throat, his broad shoulders. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew from a soft sigh that Harry was smiling. If he wasn’t listening close, he would have missed the _I love you_ that Harry pressed into the pillow.

“H. Sweet boy.”

After thinking he was on a good path to recovery, being up and around for the last two hours or so left him with throat pain worse than at the previous day’s peak and what he was sure what a spike in his fever. He hadn’t taken another dose of anything since they first went to bed and it was clear all of it had worn off. It would have been easy to grab the thermometer set just centimeters from his pillow, but he didn’t. All he knew was that Harry’s back against his chest felt burning hot, so he must at least be better off than him.

~~~~

Really hot. Static in his head? ~

 _L_ _ouis. '_

His nose hurt. It was too hot. What time was it? He wanted Louis. Remembered lots of nothing. -

_* Louis._

Bad chest. Kind eyes. Hands in his hair. Lips on his forehead. He'd liked those eyes. 

_Louis. - `_

They were Louis’ eyes. Thinking hurt his brain and he wanted to stop. '

` . But _Louis._

Sick Louis asleep on sick Harry. Not a nice sleep.

, Pretty, sleepy _Louis_. ~

Breathing hurt his throat. Was Louis hurting too? Louis shouldn’t hurt. He wanted to stop it.

. *

 _Louis._ His Louis. .

~ 

Louis made a sound. Pull him in closer. He didn’t like this. -

_Louis._

Thoughts hurt. Louis shivered. Warm him up.

_Louis. , *_

Thinking hurt his brain. It’s too cold. Pull Louis closer. ` 

_Louis_. * - 

Harry wanted to sleep. Harry wanted _Louis._

~~~~

There was no way in hell that Louis wasn’t…in hell. When the first thing he felt in the morning was flames licking his throat, he could come up with no other explanation. The only thing that convinced him otherwise was the fact that curled around his waist was Harry’s arm, and surely angels can't sleep in hell. 

If that wasn’t the longest night of Louis’ life, he didn’t know what was. He would do it a million times over for Harry, he would do absolutely anything, but dear god he hoped today would be different. Knowing how Harry’s other bugs usually went down, Louis would probably have another troubling day and sleepless night before they could get some proper rest. The second Harry caught something bigger than the sniffles he crashed hard, so Louis shouldn’t have been surprised at the events of the last few hours. However, Harry’s body tended to bounce back quicker than others, probably due to the sheer number of coughs and colds he picked up over the years. Louis begged the universe to follow that timeline - and not just because he wanted to be back on his own feet. He wasn’t sure how long he could watch Harry suffer knowing it was because of him.

Having learned from before, Louis placed his phone within arms reach before he had snuggled up to Harry. All he wanted was to check messages, let Zayn know they made it through the night. A bit of a stretch got his fingertips to the screen and he pulled it over. Not surprisingly, there were already unread texts from the man himself.

_Zayn:_

_4:23 u got ur hands full w haz but i can tell u feel shit_

_look after urself rn while he sleeps_

_don’t b afraid to call_

_serious like if u need me ill b there_

_ok i’m back to bed_

_10:35 hope ur morning was quiet_

_anyone feel better?_

_also lmk when i should bring dinner_

Zayn was just racking up the gold stars, wasn’t he? Louis ‘owed him one’ about sixty thousand times since just before dawn, and if his friend kept up being this helpful, he’d be indebted to him for life. Not quite ready for a full conversation but living up to his promise, he gave a quick update.

_Louis:_

_12:06 full on disaster when u left_

_h fine now. i’m alive_

_thank thank thank u x_

_talk later. tired_

_Zayn:_

_12:08 sounds good love_

_rest up lou u deserve it_

Usually, if Zayn started his morning before 9 he was prickly for the rest of the day, but he’d been nothing short of a saint. He and Harry would have to get him something truly fantastic as a ‘thank you’. Louis really hadn’t given much thought to caring for himself since waking up drenched in sweat that wasn’t his own. Something about seeing Harry in distress activated the reflex that mothers get if their baby is trapped under a car, so he was able to keep going despite his body. Zayn’s insistent reminders about Louis’ needs were the only reason he started actively thinking about himself.

While he could coast through the day on the five or so hours of sleep he managed to get, spending the whole week coasting wouldn’t be enough to get him breathing through his nose again - or Harry. As badly as he wanted Harry to keep sleeping right then, he needed to use the toilet. If he woke, Louis would feel bad, but he _already_ felt bad. He felt exhausted and sick and gross. And he needed a wee. Thinking about what Zayn said, he decided to put himself first just this once.

Cautious movements caused Harry to stir, but he didn’t open his eyes. With the final placement of the heavy arm on the bed, Louis thought he was in the clear, but Harry shifted again. He didn’t stick around to watch; his bladder wasn’t a great negotiator and he’d rather not wet himself _and_ feel guilty for waking Harry. One of those was more than enough.

What little sleep he got didn’t store up much energy, and he didn’t want to fade out too early. He took his time, no longer rushing as though he only had ten minutes to live. The t-shirt hanging off his shoulders most definitely reeked doubly of sweat and illness, and in that moment his congestion was almost a gift. The offending shirt got tossed into the corner of the bathroom as the lights flicked off and Louis padded out.

The flat was silent, so he assumed Harry was still asleep. He truly hoped so - going solo with a fevered brain didn’t do him any favors last time. Not expecting to see Harry leaning upright against all of their pillows, Louis jumped. No tears this time, Harry just watched him and blinked slowly. It was reassuring to see signs of life behind his gaze this time round.

“Morning, darling.” He hadn’t recovered his lost voice. It barely made a sound, instead sending the oh-so-familiar sharpness down his throat.

“Hi,” Harry kept staring, expression unreadable. Louis prepared himself for whatever was to come, but Harry just opened his arms, asking for a hug. _That_ he could manage.

Louis stood at the side of the bed, offering his right arm for Harry to fall into, but Harry didn’t scoot any closer. Instead, he patted the Louis-sized spot next to him and raised his arms again. Only then did he realize: it wasn’t a request, it was an invitation. Harry wanted to offer him comfort, and Louis wasn’t about to say no. He was directed onto his lap, slightly smaller frame so easily and lovingly enveloped. They had both removed their shirts, so Louis was cradled by soft, secure, fever-hot _Harry_. It was only a matter of time before Louis began to cry. Blinked-away wetness turned to weeping turned to body-wracking sobs. Everything he held back the night before caught up with him in that moment, and he finally allowed himself to feel tired and scared and upset and needy and _ill_. Face buried deep in the crook of Harry’s neck, he let it all burst out.

Leaned fully back on the stack of pillows, Harry never let go, even when his hot flash turned freezing and every muscle in his arms begged to release. He hadn’t tested his voice yet, but wasn’t sure he could piece together anything helpful together anyway. There wasn’t much good he could do with his blurry mind, but _this_ he could manage. He gave Louis what he could. Dropping sweet kisses on the crown of his head when he breathed faster. Humming softly when he clutched him tighter. Rubbing his thumb across bare skin when he sobbed harder. Harry had so many words to say, thanks to give, apologies to make…but they had to wait. He gave all he could, but it pained him to offer so little when Louis gave so much.

Harry never could sit and listen to Louis’ tears without shedding a few of his own. He was determined to be strong, it was not his time to be fussed over anymore. He only held out for a few minutes before they creeped in, though. Most stayed under control, the ones that escaped were small enough to glide down his cheekbones without fanfare. He cried because his head hurt. He cried because his _everything_ hurt. He cried because he felt selfish. He felt helpless. And unhelpful. Most of all, Harry cried for Louis. Because _he_ was the reason Louis cried. Because he loved him. He _loved_ him.

A tear dropped off the tip of his nose. Louis’ breath caught when the droplet hit his shoulder. Bloodshot blue leaned back to lock with miserable green: turquoise words exchanged in the way that only they could.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, closing his eyes to collect himself and letting one more tear slip.

Louis looked ready to speak, but Harry shook his head. There was a little whine when Harry unwrapped one of his arms. He just held a finger up asking Louis to wait while he ducked away. His coughs were horribly rough; Louis could feel the vibrations through Harry’s chest, but the bend of his elbow dampened the worst of the sound. He cleared his throat with a grimace.

“Should’ve looked after you, n-,“ his breath snagged against the murmurs, and he turned to his arm again to recover, “n-not you f’r me. ‘M sorry.” Harry averted his eyes, and pouted. “Stop cry'n,” he whispered, sluggish brain thinking the hover of his hand in front of his mouth as he swiped at his pink nose made him inaudible to Louis.

Curling one hand around the side of Harry’s neck, and wiping the tears with the other was Louis’ silent response. His voice was gone, but he didn’t need one to tell Harry what he was thinking. Who embraced who wasn’t clear, but they were once again tangled around each other. They managed to squeeze closer than before, two heartbeats in one body.

Harry’s nose, which had steadily reddened, gave him a few warning twinges.

“Lou I…” he sniffed hard to stave off the tingling, “c’mon.”

He tried to get away, but Louis didn’t feel like letting go quite yet. Harry’s dramatically hitching breaths did nothing to unlatch him. Muscles still too weak to fight him off, Harry just leaned farther over Louis’ shoulder to bring a fist up to his nose. Louis scratched his back as it quaked with each sneeze, breathing out a laugh when Harry flopped back against the pillows, arms still trapped, scrubbing his face into his shoulder and panting.

Louis crinkled his nose and pointed at his bare back to say that Harry had just sprayed all over him. His already rosy face glowed deep red as he tried to apologize, but Louis gave him a huge smile and lightly smacked a hand on the flustered cheek. Communicating wasn’t easy when the sarcastic one was voiceless and the other’s brain felt as though it was drowning in three layers of honey. Harry, whose breaths crackled on each inhale, and Louis, with comically half-lidded eyes, didn’t need to voices to know their next play.

They moved in sync. Harry ghosted his hands on Louis’ waist as he climbed off and replaced his body with the duvet. Two careful hands measured out doses and a larger pair took the top off a water, spilling half of it over the side of the bed. Back and forth they passed the drink, thermometer, and medicine in a perfectly choreographed dance of domesticity.

As if made for each other, their bodies fit together in every way. No amount of sniffling, coughing, or sweating could keep them apart, for better or worse, and they wouldn’t have it any other way. Every decision they ever made led them here - taking turns easing each other through coughs, sharing clothes when they swapped warmth for chills, and squinting to read the tiny numbers of each others’ fevers. Guilt-ridden apologies earned flicks to the face and swollen-eyed whimpers were calmed with lazy, breathless kisses.

There was no symptom they couldn’t remedy with each other’s fond, tender affection. Spending a week feeling dreadful together with nothing to do but adore each other was far better than a single, lovesick day apart.

**Author's Note:**

> the first multi-chapter fic i've ever posted! i just love louis and harry being soft for each other  
> feel free to shoot me requests or ideas for future work <3


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